[Chapter Size: 4000 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Essos, 297 AC.

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“Are we ready to depart, my king?” His man spoke as Jon continued to gaze at Meereen in the distance. They were back on the Artican ships, and from there, Jon could see the devastation he and his men had wrought. Beyond the crumbled wall, with smoke still rising from the site and patches of green flames burning here and there, other parts of the city also showed signs of smoke, while some of the mansions of the Great Masters had been set ablaze.

Beyond the broken wall on that side, the entire city had gathered to watch them leave. Not spending even a full day in the city, the entire operation – from guarding the walls to the executions and organizing the city as Jon had arranged – had taken around eight hours in total. There was no reason to linger while others were left in charge until the Articans returned to administer the city properly.

The people stood there, watching them with mixed emotions – admiration, fear, and even hatred, particularly from the slaves themselves. After all, to them, the Articans had ruined their lives. Some slaves had lived relatively comfortable lives under their masters, even holding positions above other slaves. Jon knew all too well that slaves themselves might start enslaving others, especially those who understood the system intricately. That’s why he hoped that Quaithe and the other red priests he had encountered would maintain control of the city until help arrived from Volantis.

Jon could have left his men to manage the city, but he considered it cruel. They had been by his side for so long that leaving anyone behind felt like an insult to his people. He decided there was nothing more to be done here now that his objective had been fulfilled.

The Articans had made their move against those who had sought to harm them, delivering a clear message. Attacking their people had resulted in the assault on the principal cities of Slaver’s Bay, the elimination of all the masters, and the looting of their families. The gold was returned to the slaves to rebuild the cities and change the system – a challenge that lay ahead.

This pattern repeated in every city they passed through. Astapor was the first to fall, followed by Yunkai, and finally Meereen. The coordinated effort of the Great Masters across the cities to strike against the Articans in Volantis had been prompted by news of their advance through Essos. Motivated by fear, they acted on prophecies that foretold the Articans would end the slave trade – a prophecy that ultimately came true more because of the Masters’ own actions than Jon harboring revolutionary ideas for this part of the world.

Like Meereen, Jon left each city without a formal administration. The responsibility fell to the red priests and even some of the slaves, with Jon declaring that they would return and that things had better remain in order. Of course, not everyone was satisfied with the changes; some resisted leaving their old lives behind. But Jon remained steadfast. Despite this, most were grateful to finally be free, though somewhat lost in this new way of life they had never known.

“Let’s go; there’s nothing left to do here,” Jon informed his men at that moment.

The 200 ships who had taken part in the attack on Meereen quickly began moving, men running across the ships as they adjusted their course before heading directly for the open sea. Fifty ships were stationed in each city, continuing to organize things until the main fleet passed by. When the fleet did, fifty ships from Yunkai and another fifty from Astapor joined the 200 ships that had already departed Meereen.

The rest of the fleet, with over 100 additional ships, was a few hours away. When they arrived, Jon, Arya, and several of his royal guards boarded the flagship, where his family awaited his return after a full day since he had left for the coast.

Jon approached the line of women and children with a reserved smile on his face.

“Did everything go well, Jon?” Rhaenys asked, waiting for him with Jahaerys in her arms. At almost a year old, he was growing into a strong and healthy child.

“Did everything go well? How is our boy?” Jon asked, suggesting that the small war with Slaver’s Bay was of lesser importance as he looked at the baby, who babbled cheerfully. Wrapped in a blanket embroidered with the symbol of a dragon—not the Targaryen sigil, but one crafted by Rhaenys herself, and bearing Artica’s emblem as well—the child gazed at him with an almost toothless smile. He reached out toward Jon, demanding to be held.

“Dagun…” the child said, which meant ‘dragon,’ insistently calling for his father.

“We’ll see the dragons later today,” Jon said, picking up his child from Rhaenys’s arms. His clothes were already cleaned of blood, as he had removed his armor and bathed before coming here.

“Dagun…” Jahaerys continued, tugging at Jon’s face with his tiny hands.

“Patience, son. We’ll see the dragons later,” Jon replied with a smile. The dragons were occupying the stables, which had once been meant only for horses, as they were growing too large. Even now, the sounds of their restlessness could be heard below, as if sensing Jon’s presence.

Soon, they would reach the size of a full-grown horse, from what Jon could tell. For now, it wasn’t a problem, but they would need to be taken to Artica quickly. After all, dragons weren’t raised aboard ships, and every day, they demanded Jon’s or his son’s presence; otherwise, there would be trouble.

This had become routine. Jon may have been absent from Jahaerys’s life for six moons during the war, but now he spent every day with him and visited the dragons. That routine was why Jahaerys immediately demanded Jon’s attention as soon as he saw his father.

The boy shared a strong bond with all the dragons, though Jon wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. It was likely that none of the dragons would object to Jahaerys choosing one as his mount. At the same time, it seemed that all the dragons awaited Jon’s command, even though he already had one. This raised a question: was it truly a rule to limit oneself to a single dragon? Perhaps neither Jon nor his children would be bound by such a restriction. Only time would tell.

Jon had also discovered that he could enter the minds of all the dragons, except for those bonded to Daenerys and Rhaenys. These two dragons had exclusive connections to their riders, and as a result, the other dragons wouldn’t let Daenerys or Rhaenys get too close. It seemed to be a reaction to their bonds. However, Jahaerys faced no such indifference, as he hadn’t claimed a dragon yet. At only one year old, it was clear he would have his choice in the future.

Jon left Jahaerys with Rhaenys and turned to his next wife. The red-haired woman was holding a baby who gazed at Jon with curiosity.

Ygritte had given birth to their son two months earlier, shortly after they left Yi-Ti, where her pregnancy had reached its end. He was exactly as she had hoped—identical to Jon, though without green eyes. He was a true Stark, with grey eyes, black hair, and a slightly prominent jaw.

“How is he?” Jon asked.

“Restless, especially after his father disappeared for a whole day,” Ygritte said, her tone weary. Jon approached and kissed her forehead.

“It’s done—faster than I initially planned,” Jon commented, and she nodded. Ygritte had wanted to fight alongside Jon in Meereen, but as the mother of a newborn, she had stayed behind to care for their son, Brandon Stark, named after his appearance and in honor of the Builder.

“Are we going home?” she asked him.

“We’re going home. Just… we need to make one last stop,” Jon replied, stepping back.

Jon then greeted Daenerys, who looked at him with a happy smile. By now, everyone knew she was his lover. Soon, they would be officially married. It was evident she was deeply in love as Jon returned her smile with a look of affection.

The last meeting was with Princess Hiyori, who gave a formal gesture of greeting but also offered him a smile. During the journey, the two had gotten to know each other better. They had spoken about their respective lives and experiences, and Jon had told her about Artica and what her life would be like there. Teachers had been assigned to teach Hiyori the languages commonly used in Artica, in addition to High Valyrian and the Old Tongue. She was an intelligent young woman, and her quick learning surprised all her tutors. She had even begun practicing with Jon and the other women.

After finishing his conversation with Hiyori and while Arya greeted Wind, Jon returned to his men, who were waiting for orders.

“Let’s resume sailing. I want us to head out to sea and follow the route to Artica before stopping at the place I already informed you about,” Jon said to the captain, who quickly relayed orders to the other 400 ships.

The fleet soon began to move again as Jon’s men settled aboard the ships, but there were still a few people Jon needed to introduce to his family.

“Before anything else, I want you to meet someone,” Jon said, looking directly at Daenerys, who regarded him with curiosity.

He pointed to a woman with dark curly hair and tanned skin, who appeared slightly shy.

“This is Missandei. We found her during the attack on Astapor. I liked her after speaking with her and asked if she would like to join us. She already knows several languages, and I would like her to become your lady-in-waiting,” Jon said directly to Daenerys, looking at Missandei.

All of Jon’s wives had ladies-in-waiting who accompanied them. Ygritte and Seryna had Artican women who stayed close to the queens when Jon was not around, as he did not interact with them much.

Daenerys continued to study the young woman, who seemed both embarrassed and afraid of being judged. Daenerys appeared to feel compassion for her; after all, she had once been in a similar position not long ago.

Daenerys was the only one who didn’t yet have a lady-in-waiting. Even Rhaenys had received Artican women to help care for her child and the Prince of Artica. Jon had chosen Missandei not only because Daenerys was the only one without a lady-in-waiting but also because he believed the two would get along well. He wanted them to become accustomed to each other.

Jon had decided to bring Missandei along after realizing she would not adapt well to Essos following the conquest of Slaver’s Bay. He brought her with a few clear rules. The first was that no new religion would be introduced other than the old Artican gods. Missandei, for her part, stated that she had no religion since being taken from the Summer Isles or that she had long stopped praying to her gods.

“Missandei… it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can be friends,” Daenerys took the initiative to start the conversation.

“It will be a pleasure, Queen Daenerys…” Missandei murmured, bowing her head.

“I’m not a queen, not yet… Anyway, I’d like you to settle in on the ship first before we talk further,” Daenerys said.

“Well, let’s head inside. I’d like to rest a bit,” Jon said, turning to Arya.

Arya was standing nearby with an Unsullied commander named Grey Worm. Like Missandei, Grey Worm was someone Jon had brought from Astapor.

Arya was in command of that Unsullied commander and many others—a total of 600 who had survived the Artican attack, which resulted in the deaths of 12,000 Unsullied.

During the conquest, a man had attempted to bargain for his life by offering a staff that granted control over the last group of Unsullied, knowing he had no chance of survival. Jon, of course, didn’t let him live, executing him after a trial. However, he gave the master’s staff to Arya, asking her to destroy it so they wouldn’t have to kill the remaining Unsullied.

That’s exactly what she did. However, this led to an unexpected outcome: the Unsullied chose to follow her voluntarily. Even when Arya told them they were free, they declared their loyalty to her, breaking the staff that symbolized their enslavement. Jon watched this carefully and made it clear that she could lead them, as long as it was done responsibly.

Arya accepted. After all, her primary interest lay in military affairs, and Jon believed this would be an excellent opportunity for her to hone her command skills. Despite Jon and the others—even Arya herself—having killed Unsullied during the invasion, they seemed loyal and unlikely to betray her. Jon left them under her command but remained vigilant for any suspicious behavior, as they had been enemies until very recently.

After this interaction, Jon spent time with his wives and children while the fleet continued its journey. The following days were calm, although fear was still evident on the ships they encountered at sea. Many fled as soon as they spotted the Artican fleet. By now, the entire world knew of them, and they would be even more shocked to learn what had happened in Slaver’s Bay. All the cities fell within 24 hours, with the Articans brutally killing all the slave masters and robbing their families after trials conducted by the Artican king himself. Jon had personally beheaded over 150 men, not to mention the others his men had killed.

This would undoubtedly shake the world, but it would take time for the news to spread, and Jon was in no rush for it. As they passed Valyria, they sailed on the open sea, avoiding Volantis but cutting toward a point on the southern coast, navigating diagonally once they were beyond Valyria.

Thus, Jon left the flagship with part of the fleet stationed at sea and took a few ships to the southern coast of Essos, between Volantis and Lys, anchoring in a desolate area.

Jon disembarked with Ghost from the ship while his men watched with concerned expressions, protesting his decision to venture into the wilderness alone.

“I’ll be fine here. I have Ghost with me, so don’t worry,” Jon reassured them, mounting his direwolf and leaving behind the group that wanted to accompany him. By going alone, Jon could act much more quickly, eager to return home as soon as possible.

Of course, there were plenty of Dothraki, bandits, and mercenaries in the area, but Jon knew he didn’t need to worry. He could spot any enemy miles away in the desert using his eagle vision. Besides, Ghost was with him, with stamina and speed far superior to any horse if needed.

Jon donned clothing to protect himself from the sun, armed himself, and set off into the desert with Ghost. Ghost sprinted into the barren landscape, running for hours without stopping, covering nearly 300 kilometers until they reached an area near Chroyane and Myr. Along the way, Jon passed several villages but avoided them all. There was even a Khalasar in the region, but Jon easily skirted around them, unaware that a giant wolf was running close to the group.

Finally, Jon stopped in what appeared to be an unremarkable spot in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, it seems this is the place,” Jon murmured, observing the location where Ghost had stopped. He analyzed the terrain using his aerial vision, noting the precise distance from the nearby river to the south.

Circling the ground with Ghost, Jon carefully examined the soil. “It’s been more than 50 years since this was buried here… but I can still find it…” Jon murmured as he stopped at a specific spot, dismounted Ghost, and knelt to touch the ground, smiling.

“This is it,” he said, stepping back. Ghost approached and dug his claws into the ground, beginning to dig rapidly, like any canine might.

The work continued for some time. With his powerful paws, Ghost tore into the hard soil, while Jon poured water he had brought to soften the ground and make digging easier. They worked until Ghost, with half his body inside the hole, paused, looked back at Jon, and signaled that he had found something.

“Great, bring it here, boy,” Jon instructed.

Ghost obeyed, placing his mouth on the object he had uncovered and starting to pull it free. After some effort, he brought a large chest to the surface. As Jon approached and began cleaning the chest, Ghost stepped back and shook himself, dislodging the excess dirt that had accumulated on his armor and fur.

“I’ll give you a bath personally when we get back, my friend…” Jon said with a smile, knowing the direwolf hated being in the scorching desert but still followed his master’s commands without question. It was only fair to reward him once they returned. Jon then turned his attention to the chest.

With his blade, Jon cut the lock securing the chest and opened it.

“Finally, I found it,” he murmured, gazing at the contents of the chest.

Inside was the legendary sword Blackfyre, given by King Aegon the Unworthy to his son Daemon Blackfyre. Despite being buried for decades, the sword was in impeccable condition, untouched by time or soil. Jon lifted it, and the Valyrian steel blade gleamed, reflecting the sunlight that shone down on them.

Jon nodded, satisfied. “It seems I have another sword to fight by my side…”

He examined the blade. It was still razor-sharp and in pristine condition, as if it had been forged just the day before.

“I used to like wielding two swords, but I think I’ll settle for just one this time,” Jon commented as he studied Blackfyre. It was perfect in every aspect—heavier and thicker than Darksister.

Jon then found its sheath inside the chest and retrieved it to store the sword. He looked at it with satisfaction. He had seen its last moments in Brynden’s green vision before it was buried, but no one had ever returned to retrieve it. Blackfyre, who had the sword at the time, died with the knowledge of its location. Recovering the true sword had been one of Jon’s goals, and now it was finally in his hands.

“It’s time to retire my two katanas. I’ll use this as my main weapon,” he said as he climbed onto Ghost, ready to leave. “Let’s head back to the coast.”

The direwolf howled in agreement, and the two began their return. For over two hours, they traveled at high speed—around 150 km/h—until they finally reached the coast and the waiting ships.

The royal guards sighed in relief upon seeing their king return. Even the birds following him in the sky descended, as the Wargs had kept close watch over their king throughout the desert, prepared to act if anything happened—a testament to Jon’s status among his men.

“Let’s return,” Jon said as he boarded the ship again, rejoining the fleet with the sword in hand.

“So you’ve found Blackfyre!” Rhaenys murmured in awe as she examined the sword in their quarters after Jon had finished settling Ghost in a corner of the ship surrounded by ice to keep the direwolf comfortable.

“Are we going home now?” Ygritte asked with a smile, clearly happy that things were finally returning to normal for Jon’s family. Daenerys and Rhaenys inspected the sword while Hiyori watched curiously. It was evident that everyone was eager to return. Despite having overcome her nausea, thanks to lessons from Lord Kin’emon’s wife, Jon’s wife missed Artica as much as he did.

“Of course. This was our third and final stop. Now we’ll return… or rather, almost all of us,” Jon said, giving Arya a meaningful look. She pressed her lips together, understanding his intent.

The fleet returned to the sea, passing south of Lys before navigating around the Stepstones. The sight of Jon and his 400 ships, even after a year in the East, attracted attention from everyone, including the inhabitants of the nearby islands. Lys, Dorne, and the Stepstones all sought contact with the fleet, but Jon paid them no mind, staying focused as the ships pressed steadily northward.

This continued for several weeks until they stopped at a point between White Harbor and the city of the Manderlys, in the southern part of the North, to say their farewells. Arya seemed a little nervous, as she was finally returning to Winterfell after so many years—over six years, to be exact. Now she was nearly 15 namedays old.

“Take care, Arya. I hope to see you soon,” Jon’s wives said, bidding her farewell with warm smiles, to which Arya responded with gratitude.

She didn’t just say goodbye to Jon’s wives and betrothed but also to the friends she had made as a princess of Artica and during their travels. A specific ship had been prepared for her and the men who would accompany her to Winterfell, while the main ship would continue with the fleet to Artica. Jon wouldn’t visit Winterfell this time but knew Arya needed to see her family. He assured her that if she wished to return to Artica, he would personally bring her back, though he knew she wouldn’t be alone.

Arya looked at Jon, her lips slightly pursed. He noticed her hesitation and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, offering her a warm smile.

“Well, it’s not like you’ll be alone. You’ve got an entire squad of Unsullied who follow you of their own free will, plenty of Articans who will be with you, and two royal guards as well,” Jon said confidently. “If you need me, you know you can send for me with a letter using the birds I’ll leave for you. And if anything happens, I won’t hesitate to leave everyone in terror before coming to fetch you and taking you back to Artica on Eragon. Understood?” he concluded, looking directly at Arya.

Arya nodded, still serious. “I’ll only stay for a while, Jon. You know Winterfell isn’t my home anymore. My place is in Artica. I’ll just be there to see them after all these years, but soon I’ll return to where I belong,” she said firmly.

Jon maintained his smile and replied, “Of course, Arya. We’ll reunite again soon.”

She nodded once more before heading to the other ship, accompanied by the men who would escort her. About 600 Unsullied, led by Grey Worm, followed her voluntarily, along with the Articans who would accompany and protect her.

The two ships began to part ways. The ship bearing the Artican banner sailed west toward White Harbor, carrying Arya aboard while her gaze remained fixed on Jon’s flagship. As her ship left the fleet, the remaining 400+ ships resumed their course north, finally returning to Artica.

The 430 remaining ships sailed in formation, laden with the wealth of their endeavors, countless items, and many new animals. They also carried the men and knowledge Jon had brought from the East, including books he had received from the Shogun and purchased through trade.

Among the fleet was a special ship used to transport some unique creatures Jon had collected during a stop in Sothoryos on their way back. Additionally, there was a ship carrying a Valyrian steel forge, which would mark the beginning of a new era for Artica with its own production of Valyrian steel.

Jon looked toward the horizon, eager. He was finally heading home, ready to see the people he loved after more than a year away.

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